


I Want It To Be Soft

by sleeplessflower



Category: Re-Animator (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, coming out fic, era-typical-homophobia, general nice softness, itll make sense i swear, its so small tho its jsut cos i hate the police, trans!herb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 19:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20263489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeplessflower/pseuds/sleeplessflower
Summary: If he had at all been thinking properly and logically during the time of the proclaimed ‘Miskatonic Massacre’, perhaps Herbert West would have seen it coming.basically herb is trans and dan is. very sweet.





	I Want It To Be Soft

**Author's Note:**

> hi-ho. i haven't written in a while oops !  
n-e way i know that the trans experience is . different being trans mineself.  
i project onto herb so . im just sort of going with mine.  
no dysphoria or anything described tho this is sweet **only**!!!  
uhh also in my au herb and dan get given like. disclosure agreements and move and dont go to peru cos fuck war.   
also i hate the police see if you can find the easter eggs  
herb isnt really. unwillfully outed. imo like. he let dan see him, even if he was being neurotic . cops dont know shit

If he had at all been thinking properly and logically during the time of the proclaimed ‘Miskatonic Massacre’, perhaps Herbert West would have seen it coming. He’d never particularly had perfect foresight, but he assumed enough that he could apply a blanket of assumption onto how a situation would go. People were, as they always had been, predictable. What weren’t – both predictable, and people – were the undead they had to fend off that had given him a nasty bash to the head, which he would reassure himself in later days, was the reason for his clouded foresight.

Herbert had chewed through the feet of coiling intestines that had him in their slippery grasp, the acids inside spilling all over his face once he’d broken through. After getting to the other side, it was just a matter of pulling himself free and untangling all the intestines’ fleshy knots. Upon rising, he fumbled around for Dan, who was currently struggling against a re-animated Meg. Globs of thick, foamy spittle pooled at the corners of her mouth and splattered on Dan’s face, her eyes wild and bloodshot. Her arms moved in rigid, stutter-y bursts, and Herbert was almost lost in observation. Assuming that Meg was recently re-animated after death, she should have been more conscious. Perhaps her endured trauma had restricted her brain from properly firing neurons. Perhaps damage to certain organs had impeded the flow of blood. How Herbert would’ve loved to poke around in her rattled brain.

Presently – when he snapped out of it too much time had passed – though, he needed to save his assistant from being mauled. Meg’s nicely manicured nails, shiny and purple, made their way into Dan’s flesh, who let out a cry it was obvious he’d been holding in. His face was splattered with blood and dirt, a bruise blooming high on his cheek. Herbert tried to be as quiet as he could as he picked up a saw.

It didn’t take much to incapacitate Meg. She was small and surprisingly bird-like, especially in bone structure. (again, something Herbert wished he could find out more about.) When he pulled Meg’s stiff, headless corpse from Dan, he was shaken and crying. Herbert, never being one for touch before this moment, blanketed Dan’s body with his own. Dan was shuddering in small bursts, sobs breaking free louder and louder until he was howling. Though unresponsive to the touch at first, soon Dan was clutching onto Herbert for dear life – like he might die too. Herbert let himself be moved and positioned until his head was tucked under Dan’s chin, and Dan was rocking back and forth, clutching Herbert like a large toy. Herbert pulled his chin to his chest, making faint shushing noises he hoped would calm Dan down, but went unheard over the whine of approaching police sirens.

What came next was being handcuffed as Herbert protested, as Dan stood silent and still, his face caked with blood and tracked with tears. The police didn’t ask any questions yet, hardly even talked to them aside from asking them to duck their heads to get into the police car. Dan didn’t speak on the drive to the station, and Herbert didn’t try to get him to. He simply shuffled around in his seat until he could reach over and offer his hand to Dan, who took it slowly, his grip loose and clammy.

After being deposited into an obviously old, disused interrogation room was when Dan seemed to come back to himself. They were given shock blankets and told to sit down while they were fetched clothes. Dan sat on the cold concrete bench, and Herbert followed, sitting opposite. Dan looked up from where he had been staring at the table between them and met Herbert’s eyes. Herbert didn’t say anything – perhaps he didn’t need to – and Dan’s eyes took on a watery quality, big and full of tears. Herbert felt his face crumple in kind. He wasn’t sure what expression he was making, but it pushed Dan into a heaving, gasping sob. Like a child, Herbert thought, unable to form words through sucked in mouthfuls of despondent air.

They were brought new clothes – a set of grey sweats for each of them, as well as some paper shoes – and told they needed to change, as their clothes would be used for evidence. Herbert, who supposed he was tired and thus, not thinking properly, had mostly unbuttoned his shirt before he realised the problem. To be so unkindly outed to Dan in such a way was like fate’s last laugh before his death. He’d hoped, as they grew closer – Herbert for days afterwards thought of when Dan kissed him, after seeing Rufus brought to re-animated life, face lit up with joy – he would be able to reveal himself to Dan, reveal the truths of his body. He was in no way ashamed of how it looked now, although he was aware that he… lacked some things that genetic men did. He had wanted it to be a private conversation, away from double-sided mirrors and bigoted class traitors.

But turning away would be suspicious, and Dan was so tired – and still in shock, Herbert assured himself – and wouldn’t take any notice. Unable to preface his reveal with so many words and explanations, Herbert divested of his shirt and stood, unashamed and tired as he fiddled with the grey sweatshirt. He could feel his face heat, could feel Dan’s eyes on his scars. He wasn’t as so much worried about anyone else seeing – he didn’t think any of the back-country hick pigs knew what top surgery scars were anyway. And oh, how neat and considerate the surgeon Gruber had suggested was. The scar tissue was minimal, and Herbert was glad.

“What happened?” Dan’s voice was rough, tired. Herbert didn’t need to ask what he was referring to, didn’t wish to act sniping or glib as he usually did; he was too nervous.

“A birth defect.” Came Herbert’s choppy reply. In his mind, he wasn’t wrong.

In little time, the police chief returned, several underlings trailing behind him to pick up their soiled clothes. They were thrust a thick stack of documents; to ensure their silence about the massacre. Herbert, simply relieved that he wasn’t being prosecuted, scanned through the pages as fast as possible, scratching his name any time it was needed. Dan was considerably slower, and so Herbert waited, patiently as he could until his friend finished. Once both had set their pens down, Herbert asked if they could leave, and they were released.

Deemed unworthy to drive, they were taken home by the lieutenant; a short, portly woman who eyed Dan and Herbert as they climbed into the back of the vehicle together. She looked in her rear-view mirror as they pulled out of the police station parking lot, and called them a slur. Herbert decided not to hear her.

They were quickly dumped onto their front lawn, not told if they were going to ever receive their clothes back. Herbert suddenly decided he was thankful his tape recorder was destroyed. With none of their belongings present, Herbert clumsily grasped for the spare keys hidden under a flowerpot by the door. His mind had since stopped fuming over the lieutenant and was now thinking about Dan. He needed to get Dan washed and into bed, and make sure he slept well. For shame, Doctor West. Caring about people? How very unlike you.

As soon as Herbert entered, he had Dan by the sleeve, tugging him down until he was sitting on the side of the bathtub. Herbert wasn’t fully sure how to deal with shock; he’d never seen it, hardly experienced it. But Dan had quieted back down now, to the behest of the colour returning to his face. Moving as quickly as he could, Herbert pulled the face washer from its place in the shower and doused it in warm water.

“I’m going to clean your face up.” Herbert said, trying to keep his voice calm, warm cloth offered in front of himself. “I’d prefer it if you showered, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.” He started with long, soft strokes on the right side of Dan’s face, clearing away the dirt and blood and sweat and tears. Dan didn’t move much aside from blinking, his eyes trained on Herbert.

Their heights reversed; Herbert felt a small pang of – he wasn’t sure what to call it. It made him feel warm to have Dan’s face in his hands, but in a situation like this, where Dan was so still, was mingled with sharp pangs of discomfort. Contrary to what any outside observer might believe, Herbert West did have a heart. And at this moment, he’d argue that it beat for just one person.

Slowly, Herbert directed Dan to his room. He sat him on the edge of the bed, let him slowly lower himself into his pillow. Herbert felt sticky and sweaty and unclean, but some part of his good sense that was still left told him that Dan shouldn’t be left alone.

“I’d like you to eat something, but I think that’s best saved for tomorrow.” His voice was a touch softer. “Is there anything you need?”

“Can you…” Dan sounded terribly hoarse and so, so tired. “Can you just lay here with me?”

“Of course, my dear.

~

Herbert didn’t think the topic of his genetics would ever be broached. He didn’t think that Dan was unaware of his… er, ‘condition’, but he didn’t think the man would bring it up. He assumed he would be free to continue his experiments, and Dan could continue working towards his degree. Once everything had blown over – Herbert and Dan had been asked to move towns, which didn’t mean much to either of them at that point – they moved back into routines, more or less. Of course, there had been the awkward confession of love on Dan’s part, – _not _rejected, Herbert notes whenever Dan mentions it – and aside from closer quarters, a shared bedroom, and some terse pet names, things hadn’t changed past the norm. _Their _norm anyway.

On particular afternoon, Herbert was organising books on a shelf they had just bought. It was on the left wall of the lounge, and Herbert had been delighted to migrate his stacks of biology and chemistry texts somewhere they weren’t risking getting blood on them. Dan approached Herbert from behind, footsteps quiet enough to be peaceful, but still heard.

“Comin’ up behind you.” Dan announced, moving forward and wrapping his arms around Herbert’s middle. Herbert didn’t appreciate being touched unexpectedly (Dan had found out the hard way). Herbert still squawked all the same, now unable to continue his organisation.

Deciding to take it slow was, surprisingly, Dan’s idea. Herbert – who was _not _a stranger to sexual escapades – had accepted with a proverbial sigh of relief. He wasn’t yet sure whether he wanted to tell Dan about his differing genitalia just yet, but didn’t want to appear prude(as some small part of him was afraid Dan would reject him at that, as if it would be the final straw). But when Dan broached the subject of taking things as slow as they felt comfortable, Herbert was relieved, if not mildly surprised.

“Not that I’m not appreciative,” Herbert drawled, leaning back into Dan’s embrace. “But I am in the middle of some organisation.”

“Oh, yes,” Dan backed off, beginning to mimic an old, huffy professor. “Wouldn’t want to disturb you, old chap.” Herbert didn’t often laugh, but Dan saw it as an accomplishment to be able to get a small chuff out of him every now and again.

“Thank-you.” Herbert replied in kind, continuing his ministrations.

“Uh, for… being serious, though, Herbert.” Dan started, moving so he was within eye shot. “I do have to ask you about something.”

Herbert turned to face Dan fully. “Of course, dear.” That was his o-k.

“Last year,” Dan started, and Herbert tried to take a breath as quietly as he could. “When we…” He stopped a moment and shook his head, like he was getting water from his ears. “Those scars.”

Clearing his throat, Herbert’s gaze dropped to the floor. There was no way he’d be able to look anywhere near Dan’s eyes if he wanted to explain properly. “Daniel…” He started “When I was born, I wasn’t who I am now.” Even though he’d prepared for a situation like this time and time again, Herbert struggled to find the right words. “I was so different you-“ Pausing a moment, Herbert placed the book he’d been holding back into the unsorted pile. He put that hand in his pocket.

“When I was born, genetically, I was female.” Herbert drew in breath, and let it out. “Obviously that is not concurrent with my gender.” Looking around the worn carpet they stood on, Herbert fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt. “I don’t know if you are… aware of the theory of gender identity. I can explain if need be.”

Consumed by nerves as he was, Herbert was unaware of Dan’s current reaction. Dan, as it happened, couldn’t take his eyes off of his partner. It was as if Herbert was bearing himself, as if in this moment he was naked and open, on an operating table, free for Dan to observe. There was something special about this openness, and Dan wasn’t going to abuse this sensitive information Herbert was giving him.

“I do know a little about it, yeah.” Dan gave back, and slowly stepped forward. “But I understand what you’re saying.” He had a hand out, palm up, offering. “Do you mind if I…?”

“Go ahead.”

Dan grasped Herbert’s arm, where it was close to his side, and slid his hand up until he was cupping Herbert’s shoulder. The action was impossibly soft. “I had a friend in high school. She – everyone thought she was a boy, you know. So did she.” When Herbert looked up, Dan didn’t try to make eye contact; he knew Herbert couldn’t manage that. “She moved to Illinois I think.” He let out a soft laugh. “What I’m saying is, it doesn’t change my view of you. You’re still you I just… know you more intimately now.”

Dan’s hand travelled to Herbert’s face, who leaned into the touch gently.

“Thank you for being understanding, Dan.” Herbert sounded suddenly tired. Dan moved slowly, and pulled Herbert into his arms, who in an instant buried his face into Dan’s neck. There was something so valuable about having Herbert be comfortable around him. When they had first met, Dan was sure that Herbert would never be comfortable around anyone. He scarcely seemed to enjoy company from anyone. It eventually got to a point where Herbert was silent around him when they were studying, and Dan thought that was what Herbert considered comfort. But moments like this, where they were able to sit in each other’s embrace for hours were deeply treasured.

Herbert’s breath was warm where it danced along Dan’s neck as he spoke.

“Are you going to let me finish filling the bookcase now?” although the question was glib, Herbert’s voice was softer than usual, almost like a whisper. Dan kissed the peak of Herbert’s head and released him from his grip.

“Yeah, go on then.” Dan watched as Herbert slowly returned to his previous activity. “You old cod.” He added, playfully.

“Daniel,” Herbert’s voice travelled from where his back was turned. “I’m younger than you are.”

“I know, I know,” Dan laughed, soft and airy. He didn’t think he’d ever feel so much towards someone like Herbert. When it came in kind, when they fit together so nicely, he didn’t see how he couldn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> [ yell at me or whatever here ](herbertvvest.tumblr.com/ask)


End file.
